Georgia 2013

We travelled into Sopeli again to harvest a row of grapes the first day and walnuts the next.  Sophie and Luca weren't as interested in the grapes, but hunting for walnuts resembled an Easter egg hunt, so they got involved.  Giorgi climbed high into the walnut tree and shook all of the branches one by one.  Walnuts rained down and we gathered them into buckets, making a contest of who could get the most the fastest.  I also learned that walnuts stain hands.  Mine remain an unsightly green and black as a reminder of our time in the village. 

The kids loved it there, playing outside all day only coming inside for bed at night.  The village girls were waiting for Sophie and she was in heaven.  Luca holds his own as can be expected by now.  Today is Sophie's birthday so I won't write more, but thought I'd upload some pictures for anyone who wants to see....

Sopeli Days

We wake up early here. 6:30 or 7:00. Irina teases us that we should have cows, since those are the farmers who rise early in the village. I wonder if it's meant to be a little insult for waking them so early too. No matter. We're still sufficiently lazy, lolling and playing most of the rest of the day.


Georgians believe that Georgia is the original Garden of Eden. Nature seems to make it so here. Things grow jurassic. Zinnias as tall as me and cabbages like swimming pools. Trees heavy with fruit sagging their branches support the men who climb them for a daily harvest. All organic. All free for the taking.

The yard full of children's play things from years past and thrown away from other cultures, all put to new use in the yard of a house in the village. A house likely the same as houses built centures ago. A lifestyle much the same as lifestyles lived centuries ago. Kitchen outside. Oven even further away. Indoors for resting only. Everything else in the fresh air.

Yesterday, the village girls came to play, as they've done every day since they discovered Sophie. For playthings, old paintbrushes and some chalk with water on the sidewalk entertain for hours on end. I swung in the hammock with Luca looking up through the quince and aleucha at the blue blue sky as the girls busied themselves with play all around us.

Irina and I then decided to go for a stroll up the hill. We went a little way and found a posse of girls at our heels, picking wildflowers to make boquets for Sophie and me. Each one a little bigger and more elaborate. Sophie cried when I told them such a thing was not allowed in Minnesota. Maybe we'll stop on the side of the road there someday to pick wildflowers anyway.

I heard mothers calling their daughters around 8:00 when the cows began to make their way through the village to their own houses. All were getting ready to tuck in for the night. The girls will ceratinly come again tomorrow.

Impromptu Brownie Baptism

We baptised Luca today. Giorgi made the arrangements yesterday afternoon. We went to the church at 3:00 and scheduled a dinner party to follow for 30 people. After having witnessed Sophie's baptism, I was apprehensive to say the least about this one. So, in true Minnesota form, I got myself in the mood by baking. I found some old cocoa powder and vanilla I had brought from the States and decided to try myt hand at brownies in Georgia, baked without a moment to spare, as Giorgi was tapping his toe for me to hurry out the door as I pulled them from the oven.

The brownie baking was probably just the thing to ease any tension because I couldn't have been more delighted at how easy this event turned out to be. We drove to the cathedral where Giorgi and I were married, or rather, tried to drive there. Saakashvili, however, has completely re-vamped the town for the better. Now it stands in all its glory for tourists to stroll from near and far, but only for pedestrians. One of the unfortunate things about touruism for those who are used to going wherever we want in the country is the road blocks and one-ways that have cropped up because of increased traffic: all roads within 5-6 blocks of the cathedral are now barred by fancy posts that sink into the ground for those who have a special card to swipe down the nearby card-reader. Fortunately for us, Giorgi still has friends who live within the Cathedral's perimeter and let us in with a swipe of their card all for the opportunity to hug and kiss our children on the way in and the way out.

Once inside the Cathedral, we hung out waiting for everyone to arrive. Eventually, however, Giorgi grew impatient and those of us who were there went in for the ceremony, which had already begun for 2 others. I handed Luca off to his godfather, Pridoni, and watched the event unfold through the lens of my camera. Luca was a champ -- gazing and watching in wonder at all that the priest did to him. And, as if on cue, a small ray of light came in through a slit in the wall high above and shown down on Luca -- A tale to be told into his old age to be sure.



The priest and godfathers (two were present of the 3 we chose) went through the baptism rigamarole of lighting candles, dousing Luca's head in baptismal water, annointing him with oils, cutting his hair and walking in circles with candles, and then making it all very official in a little book to take home. [For a more complete account of baptisms in Georgia, see the entry Sophie's Natloba in the archive from May 2009] Luca watched it all with wonder and never shed a tear. I was astounded.

Afterwards, we all piled into our vehicles and headed for the same restaraunt where Giorgi and I held our wedding party. This time, though, we had a much better room, as this party was for only 30 people. We sat overlooking the River Mtkari with Jvari Monestary high above on the opposite bank. There was, of course, toasting and singing, all of which I paid little attention to because I was visiting with friends and enjoying a glass of beer while Sophie played with other children in the garden and Luca was passed from hand to hand, women, men and children all vyeing for his attention.



Food was plentiful, but perhaps the biggest hit of the table was my homemade impromptu brownies. They were a bit flat by American standards, but the Georgians loved them, gobbling them all up and aksing for not only for more, but for the recipe as well. Giorgi's good friend convinced me to teach his wife how to make them while he even babysat the kids the following evening!

The party went until 10:30 when the last of the guests kissed us goodbye and gave congratulations for Luca's entry into Christianity.

The Road Less Travelled

After lots of whining and cajoling on my part, Giorgi finally gave in and took me on a "family adventure." We drove over an hour into an through the city of Gori, which some of you may recall was the main focus of Russian hostility during the August 2008 war. Finding no signs to our destination, we had to ask directions to the ancient cave town of Uplis-tsikhe, translation: God's Fortress. The weathered man on the road told us to turn left, turn right, go over the bridge, and then we would see the town right in front of us. We turned left, turned right, went over the bridge and found only a "T" in the road. We decided to turn right at the "T" because that road was new and freshly paved. After driving about 5 km without any luck, we turned around and took the road to the left, which consisted of mostly dirt and potholes and only remnants of the original asphalt. We were again bouncing through the back country of Georgia and it felt good.

We trekked back over the river on a bridge where local boys were jumping the 20 feet into the water without batting an eye, and without a single sign showing us how to get to this major tourist attraction, Giorgi, Sophie, Luca and I followed our noses and came upon Uplis-tsikhe at the hottest point of the day when all other tourists were headed home for siesta. We had no choice, though, we had to squeeze our trip between and into the nap schedules of two little people. So, onward we went into the cave village.



Sophie made instant friends with the ladies taking care of the restroom as well as the resident dog (who enjoyed her leftover khachapuri) and immediately decided to act as our tour guide and guard dog, growling at all of the guests going down as we walked up. Our hike began in the cool tunnel to the river, where we climbed up and up and came out into a complex of cave dwellings and churches. The trip probably would have been much more informative if we had purchased a guide, but, as it was, Giorgi only mentioned that there were guides for sale once we reached the village at the top, and the guides were all the way back down at the bottom. Anyway, we traipsed around the sandstone guessing at what holes in rock might have been two thousand years or more ago when the city flourished. We're pretty sure we found the kitchen, but then again, it could have been an ancient pagan ritual sacrifice alter. Perhaps it was both.

We hiked almost to the top in the hot summer sun but Luca let us know he had had enough. I left my entire family in a cave to stay cool and forged ahead, determined to get some good shots of this tourist mecca even on the mother-of-a-toddler and mother-of-an-infant timeline that we had. So I got the proverbial church shot and headed back down to rescue my family from the heat.

We took an actual family photo from a perfectly situated ledge where they waited and then headed back down the hill and through the tunnel from whence we emerged. We even caught a glimpse of a bat on the way down. Giorgi cautioned me not to let it get caught in my hair. If only I were a squirrley wife and worried about such fluffy stuff our conversations might be a little lighter!



Sophie's favorite part of the adventure was hopping down each and every step, which took almost as long as our whirlwind tour itself. We traipsed back to the parking lot under the exposed electrical wire hanging across the path and back to the truck which stayed surprisingly cool, and bounced back into civilization.

Once in Gori, we wondered when we would ever be in Gori again and decided to take advantage of the moment and poke our noses into the Stalin Museum (yes, Stalin was from this very city in Georgia). So we bought tickets and this time purchased a guide. The guide led us on an abbreviated tour, which turned out to be her entire spiel, just said faster. I couldn't understand most of it, as she had a thick accent and was speaking too fast, but it was fun to walk around and look at pictures of Stalin and his family and see little models of illegal printing presses that he used in the revolution. Perhaps the highlight of the Stalin museum, though, was the 25 Lari (~$21) magnet I had to have. I made Giorgi buy me the magnet/bottle opener because, really, who else can say that they have a Joseph Stalin magnet/bottle opener?

Out of money after our major souvenir purchase, we headed back to Tbilisi to bathe our children, eat dinner and eventually get some much needed rest. It was a good day indeed.